Let Me Sleep Beside You
by Tinn
Summary: ON HIATUS MAYBE FOREVER. Hermione pushes boundaries she shouldn't cross to find someone lost eight years before. Will she be able to handle the consequences? Hermione/Sirius
1. Somewhere

A/N: Not mine, clearly. All characters belong to Rowling and I'm just playing with them for a while. This is a Hermione/Sirius story, legal-age Hermione o'course. Set a few years after the last book, canon use of the last book is iffy.

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><p><em>Prologue: Somewhere<br>_

_It felt like dreaming, but he knew sometimes that he'd been dreaming too long. He felt heavy and light, far too big and completely miniscule. He was pretty sure he could go anywhere but knew he was also quite tightly confined. He was surrounded in black, or white, or maybe every color at once. He knew with certainty that he wasn't alone – he heard them, they whispered, he never understood them, he never saw them, though they seemed quite close._

_The hardest part was remembering who he was._

_Something, something, something. Something Black, like this nothing he swam or floated or maybe stayed perfectly still in while it whirled around him. A star, he was a star, a Howl, a Moon, Star-Dog, Dogstar, Sirius, Sirius Black. It always felt so good to remember, and he opened his eyes, and it felt like the first time in 100 years, and somewhere in the nothingness was a pinprick of light, another star like him, and he felt like running and he didn't know how to move but somehow he was hurtling toward it._

_It grew until the white was blinding._


	2. Missing Persons

_Chapter 1: Missing Persons  
><em>

_Winter, 2003_

Entering from different directions, both figures met in the middle of the clearing, leaving two lines of footsteps the only blemish upon the pristine virgin snow. Both wore heavy cloaks, and neither lowered their hoods; not only as protection from the biting cold, but in an effort to mask themselves, unable to shake the paranoia that their somewhat illicit activities might be observed, even as far out as these seemingly deserted woods.

As the figures met, they embraced, grasping each other tightly for a moment of warmth and to lend each other strength for what they knew would be a long and difficult night. A few short months earlier the two would not have greeted each other so civilly, but as the war had taught all of them, friends and enemies could be changed in a moment. Finally, the shorter figure was the first to break the silence, and Luna Lovegood's whisper drifted up with a songbird's fragile lilt. "Have you prepared yourself?"

Hermione Granger's voice was steadier as she gave her assent, "I've done all you said was necessary." She'd been hesitant, early on. No spellwork she'd done had required her to purify herself before she could perform it. At most she'd drawn runes, and she was accustomed to preparing potions. But Luna had been insistence on its importance, and Hermione had agreed. Nothing they were doing tonight would be familiar, and they had far more to gain than to lose. Earlier in the evening, Hermione had bathed herself in lavender - not an unpleasant experience, and the soap Luna had given her was soft and fragrant. She'd tried not to feel silly about the second half of her purification; when she'd lit loose herbs from her potions stores – sage and mugwort – in her tiny half-pint cauldron set upon the bathroom tile, until they were smoking heavily. She'd then slipped out of her thin silk robe and stood naked in the smoke, swaying her body until she'd been sure that she'd inured her entire self in smoke.

As if to confirm this, the slight blonde leaned forward and sniffed at the taller witch's neck, then nodded and let her queer smile break out. "No infestations, nothing attached. Quite well."

While used to her quirks by now, Hermione felt uncomfortable at the inspection, and was grateful when the other witch stepped back. She rubbed her own arms against the chill. "So... shall we start?"

Luna bit her lip, and when she spoke, she seemed far wiser than the Loony Lovegood Hermione had known since her schooldays, "As long as you're sure. Not all spirits are agreeable, and even when they are, there can be unforeseen consequences. I feel there will be here, certainly. We've changed too much already. There may even be grave danger!" She laughed then, which was disconcerting, but Hermione was resolute.

"Let's begin."

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><p><em>Spring, 2003<em>

It hadn't been five years since the war had finally ended, and the peace and celebration that had come in the wake was still shaky. The Aurors were kept busy stamping out attempts at resurgence by former Death Eaters and wizard anarchists. Most of the former Order members held jobs in the new-forged Ministry; Hermione worked long hours in the Department Of Missing and Suspected Cursed Persons, where she followed up Formal Inquiries made by displaced person's loved ones with research and investigation until she'd located the missing or remains of such. It was an exhaustive and often thankless position; all too often she was met with dead ends, or the missing person was found to have been killed, and she had to then inform hopeful families to give up hope. It was worth it when she did get to reunite someone long lost with the family that loved them, but it felt those instances were too few in-between.

Technically, no family member had come forward and made an inquiry on Sirius Black.

By that basis, Hermione should never had made him one of her cases.

But strictly speaking, Sirius Black was Missing. There was no proof he had died when he fell through the veil. He had just gone somewhere else, and now no one knew where he was.

And besides, his picture _had_ shown up on her desk.

It had been a long and tiring day, wherein she'd had to inform two families on the deceased nature of their loved ones. All Hermione wanted to do was go home and slip into a warm bath, a relaxing cup of chamomile tea in hand. However, the work day wasn't over yet, and instead she was on her fourth cup of coffee and she shuffled through the open Inquiries, looking for one that seemed urgent or at least not entirely hopeless.

_Name: Gennifer McKendrick_

_Disappeared: Three years ago_

_Circumstances of Disappearance: Last seen wandering into marshes looking for a particular strain of fungi._

Poor girl probably ate the wrong mushrooms. Finding her would be a matter of dredging through the muck and combing the marshes for her bones.

_Name: Benjamin Muss_

_Disappeared: Twelve years ago_

_Circumstances of Disappearance: Suspected kidnapping by Death Eaters_

He was either dead, or a Death Eater, and since they'd never had a record of a Muss in the Auror office, most likely the former.

_Name: Rudyard Knapp_

_Disappeared: One year ago_

_Circumstances of Disappearance: Wife woke to find him missing, as well as their maid. Wife suspects foul play._

Hermione snorted. She doubted Rudyard or the maid wanted to be found. She continued shuffling papers. One yellowing parchment stuck to the bottom of her coffee mug when she lifted it, and she peeled it away so it could be read.

_Wanted: Sirius Black_

Hermione jumped unexpectedly, startled by the snarling mugshot of Sirius Black she'd uncovered.

She didn't know those posters were still floating around the Ministry offices, it'd been ten years since the then-convict's escape. Besides which, he'd long since been cleared of any charges, due to the evidence that had come to light shortly after his disappearance.

His disappearance.

Hermione scrawled hastily on the back of the poster.

_Name: Sirius Black_

_Disappeared: Seven years ago_

_Circumstances of Disappearance: Fell through a veil which may or may not be connected to a different astral plane._

Without thinking about what she was doing, she'd grabbed her official seal and stamped the Inquiry, marking it In Progress; subsequently, through the magic imbued in the Ministry and their legal department, making it a binding contract.

Then she sipped the last of her coffee, put her paperwork in her bag, and went home early, to ponder What The Fuck She Had Just Done.

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><p><em>AN: Oh, hi readers! Thank you for reading this far, I truly appreciate it. I hope the disjointed nature of the early chapters doesn't put anyone off, there are quite a few timeskips_ _necessary at the beginning here to bring us up fully to 'present day'. I do hope you stick around!_

_-Tinn_


	3. Broken Teacups

_Chapter 2 - Broken Teacups  
><em>

_Spring, 2003_

Hermione couldn't will her exhausted body into sleep that night. What had she done? _What __had__ she __done?_

The Ministry of Magic was not young; like any wizarding institution of a certain age, it had its own magic quirks; one being that contracts made and sealed by Ministry Officials, as Hermione was now, were binding agreements. And when the Ministry said something was binding, they _meant __it_.

Hermione had made a contract with herself that afternoon. If she didn't follow up with it, there would automatically be an inquiry – the contract wouldn't allow itself to go unnoticed. And with what she'd done – which she had to admit to herself now was wildly insane, it wasn't as if she'd just lose her job. Making an Illegal Missing Persons Report for _Sirius __Black?_ The one who'd gone through the Veil, the crux of all mysteries of the Department of Mysteries? She'd end up in St. Mungo's if she was _lucky_. An Azkaban sentence seemed likely. She was dabbling in a dangerous area, one which was meant to be held to the highest secrecy. _Oh__ bloody__ hell,__ if__ the __media__ caught__ on..._

She'd have to walk in tomorrow and quit. That was all there was to it. It would be a serious blow to her career, but it was the only way to nullify the contract. She's just have to say she couldn't handle the stress of the position, and hope no one noticed her final contract before it terminated itself. There. That's that.

And yet...

_She remembered his face, the pure honest hope and worry of rejection when he asked Harry to live with him, and the exuberant joy when Harry accepted..._

_Harry's face when the plan fell apart, his disappointment only a glimmer of the pain to come..._

_Reminding herself not to pet and cuddle the oversize dog he hid as, and how he didn't seem to mind when she'd forget and pat his head, and how her fifteen year old self would wonder if his hair was as soft in human form._

_His face on the poster, the snarling animal they had made him, trapped with his demons, his mistakes and his loss._

_Getting to know him at Grimmauld place, and learning that the sound of his laugh was her favorite in the world._

_The look on in his eyes, round perfect shock, as he dropped through the veil._

Her sob startled herself, and Hermione sat straight up in bed, coughing and sobbing painfully while tears leaked out uncontrollably. She'd seen so much death in her life, but his, his never faded to the dull ache of all the others. The moment Sirius fell was burned into her memory with perfect clarity. It was the first death she'd seen, much worse than seeing Cedric's body the year before.

And then that feeling, that wonder. What if it hadn't been a true death? What if he was living, some sort of living, in some kind of place?

Hermione could walk in and quit tomorrow, but she knew it wouldn't help her sleep at night.

There was very little tangible research done on death. It wouldn't be as easy as going to the Hogwarts library and finding some obscure reference. The very nature of it meant it stayed unknown. But she was the brightest witch of her age. She'd solved problems under dire circumstances before. She trusted her instincts and she couldn't shake the feeling that something _could_ be done about this. And she vowed to herself, deeper than the contract she'd already made. She would try.

She rolled over once more, and this time sleep came.

Her hands shook as set the teacups down, and she hoped Harry didn't notice the slight rattle. Hermione didn't know why she was nervous. This was Harry, not some ministry official. But then, perhaps that's what had her on edge. In the month since she'd made her decision she'd been constantly in fear of her project being discovered. As if her Inquiry wasn't bad enough, she'd been breaking rules left and right. Big ones, _this-information-you-are-looking-at-is-not-meant-to-be-seen-by-any-living-witch_ ones. She'd reached a lot of dead ends and frustration; but she did have a few scant leads, and it was time to ask for help.

After a moment of awkward silence as she stirred her tea idly, Harry saved her having to speak first. "What's going on, Hermione? I know I've been preoccupied with Ginny recently, she's so far along now, but you've been distant the past few weeks. What's bothering you? Trouble at work again?"

"Er. Right. Well," Damn. When did Harry become so _perceptive_? Hermione placed her teaspoon down next her cup, taking the extra second to make sure it was at a proper parallel to her cup, and perpendicular to the sugar bowl. "I've taken on a new project. It's... a bit different than my usual inquiries."

"Oh really?" Harry asked, showing genuine interest. Most of her friends believed Hermione's job was far more interesting and glamorous than it was. "Who is it?"

"Sirius Black."

Fortunately the teacup he'd been holding hadn't been one of her favorites. Harry didn't even appear to notice it slip from his hands, or the small flurry of china shards as it exploded onto the tile floor.

"That's... that's not _funny_, Hermione!" Harry's face was incredulous, and something else Hermione was not accustomed to seeing directed at her – unmasked anger.

Hermione calmly passed him the stamped contract. She was doing her best to stay calm, she had prepared herself for his disbelief, but not this rage. "I'm not joking, Harry. I feel like it's... doable. I think we can figure this out. We've solved big things before, this can just be another task to work out."

"_Another__ task_? He's dead, Hermione. That's it." He looked like he wanted to say more, but he couldn't get any words out.

"But Harry... what if he's just missing?" she implored. The look he gave her then would burn itself into her memory. Hurt, anger, and worst, betrayal, as if she'd taken a knife and stabbed him through the chest. He never said anything else, just stood up and left, and she knew it would be futile to try and stop him.

She'd grown accustomed to these kinds of fights with Ron, they'd had them since they were kids, and there were times she'd been angry at both of them, but she'd never had Harry walk away from her, had him refuse to speak with her, not like this.

He lightened, eventually, and she suspected Ginny had intervened _(the __father__ of__ her __child__ and__ the__ one __they'd __chosen__ as __godmother__ needed __to __be _talking _when__ she __brought __her__ into__ the __world,__ for__god__sakes)_ but there was a new-found strain in their friendship, this subject they weren't going to talk about.

She couldn't ask Ron, she wouldn't, not now, and she wouldn't have Harry's help in this. There was no one else she could trust.

She'd have to bring the dead back on her own.

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><p><em>AN: Thank you so much to all my readers, those who have put me on story alert/favorites, and those who have reviewed. Yay!_

_After this chapter we'll be mostly caught up, with another brief timeskip to find out how Luna entered into the equation..._


	4. Paradoflukes

_A/N: Wow, I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated! Midterms happened, as well as holidays with family. This chapter was also a pain to write. Another update will come soon, then there might be another short hiatus as I'm taking a trip to San Francisco and then will be returning to finals in December. Thank you all for continuing to read, and especially those who have reviewed! Those reviews fuel me, really they do._

_- Tinn_

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><p><em>Chapter Three: Paradoflukes<em>

_Winter, 2003_

Luna straightened up as she finished sprinkling the thick circle of salt that would surround them during the ritual, creating a depression in the snow.

Hermione laid out the things she'd brought from her pack – white candles, bundles of herbs, a man's button up shirt, her pewter cauldron. Luna added a small and deadly-looking silver knife. The handle was ivory or bone – Hermione didn't want to know, and the sight made her shudder internally. She hated pain.

"I've sharpened it this morning," Luna informed her as she observed Hermione's gaze. It was not comforting.

When the girls had begun hatching this scheme, it had almost seemed unreal that they'd actually be here, three months later. Hermione never expected she'd be working, even friends, with _Luna__Lovegood_of all people! Not after all that happened. Yet here she was, standing with the one person willing – actually _confident_ in this insane plan.

They'd finally taken down their hoods so they could see task at hand, in spite of the light snow that had once more begun to fall. Flakes dusted their lashes and melted against their lips. Hermione charmed their instruments from the dampness, but Luna had forbidden her from performing any magic to their own persons outside of the ritual before them, and the cold bit into her skin without her usual weather protections.

_Summer, 2003_

She was obligated to attend the party the Ministry had thrown; some fund-raising event, raising money for research into cures for disfiguring potion effects, something of the sort. Hermione did not want to be there. She made small talk with coworkers, people from departments she didn't see often, not really paying attention, answering vaguely if anyone tried to ask how her current cases were going.

Her mind was still on research, trying to form theories. She'd hardly gotten anywhere. There was very little written about the Veil, she'd already exhausted the vast Ministry library. She'd read far too many books on Death itself, everything from religious texts to medical reports on the breakdown and decay of body systems. Her thoughts, as a result, had been entirely too morbid lately.

She kept having the unsettling idea of just stepping through the Veil herself. It wouldn't really be giving up, would it? Letting go, maybe, of this unrewarding job, these cases and cases of missing persons that were over before she'd begun them; at the bottoms of lakes, in shallow graves in public parks, rotting in basements.

She took a sip of her wine and tried to banish the thoughts which had become more and more frequent as of late.

"Are you trying to drown a paradofluke in your eye?"

Hermione stiffened at the soft, musical voice behind her shoulder. She turned, and frowned at the smaller witch standing there, "Um, hello Luna."

"They can take over your brain, you know. Sour your thoughts. They can be very dangerous. Red Wine does help, well done," Luna's smile was twisted in a wry expression Hermione wasn't used to seeing.

"Well, I don't think I have one, and I'm certainly not trying to self-medicate," she answered tersely.

It was hard for Hermione to speak to her with the same friendliness she once had, with Luna her classmate, Luna who had fought beside her. Now, she struggled to see past Luna who had slept with her then-fiance, Luna who had ended her and Ron's engagement. It didn't help much that she knew Luna had been hurt by him too. "What are you doing here, Luna?"

In all the research she'd done and libraries she'd visited, she'd avoided the Hogwarts Restricted Section as of yet; even knowing there was bound to be a mention of the Veil there. She simply couldn't face Luna Lovegood, Assistant Librarian. It was cowardly, especially by Gryffindor standards.

The blonde witch was now staring at her intently. Hermione didn't regret her avoidance of the Hogwarts Library; this was uncomfortable.

"You don't have a paradofluke, do you?"

"No, Luna, I don't."

The younger witch studied her, making Hermione shift and sip her wine, before asking,"There's a piece missing, isn't there?"

Hermione coughed against her wine. That was too close to the mark. Wasn't that how she'd felt, since she began this mad task? "Yes, I suppose there is, in a fashion."

"That can be remedied," Luna remarked, her voice was near a whisper. "Anything missing can be found, no matter where it is. Even things that have slipped into places they don't belong. _Especially _then."

Hermione felt hot. Luna's wide eyes on her were unflinching. If she weren't trained so well against Occulumency, she might think... but no. There was no way Luna could _know._

"Come to the library sometime, Hermione. You know if you need help finding something, you can always trust a librarian."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond, but she didn't have to. Luna had moved on to talk with a wizard from one of the lower departments, leaving her to sip her wine and puzzle over an ally she wasn't sure she had. And was shocked to realize she _wanted_.

When she showed up at the Hogwarts Library three days later, she wasn't even surprised to find a stack of books on finding spells, archaic magic, magical theory, and a slim, handwritten volume on the Veil waiting for her at the reference desk.

Luna let her into her tiny office, and they begun.


End file.
